


Pu'umake *

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve takes a hit.  (* Danger)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pu'umake *

"Do not even _pretend_ to be surprised," Danny said, arms spread out as if to indicate the breadth of his incredulity. "Did you seriously, for even a second, consider 'I'm working from home today' to be a _subtle_ move? No, really, this I gotta hear. Hey Danny! I have come to work while shot, stabbed, actively bleeding from injuries of an undetermined nature, with a concussion, while limping, and _holding a knife_ , but hey, I decided I would _work from home today._ That's not unusual at all!" He began to pace. "Tell me, please, who, knowing you, would imagine anything _less_ than you being held at gunpoint by _terrorists_ could elicit such a message? A message, let me remind you, sent by _text_ , further giving credence to the presence of said terrorists, since your usual manner of interaction is to call me directly so that you can hear my blood pressure _hit the roof._ "

Steve peered over the top of his blankets. "Did you . . ."

" _Shut up_. Just – shut up, right now. I gotta do a thing." Danny pulled out his cell phone and stabbed at it recklessly. "Chin. Cancel the back up." He made an obscene gesture with his free hand. "A cold. He has a fucking _cold_." Another pause. "I will be sure to tell him that. Okay. Yeah. Bye." He threw his phone down on the top of Steve's bedroom dresser. "Chin says you are a bastard. And he might have been laughing a little."

"Mmmmph," Steve said grumpily,

Danny blinked. "Mmmph? _Mmmph?_ Are you seriously mmphing me?"

Steve narrowly avoiding grumbling again. His head hurt. "Is that a real question?"

"Yes, yes, it is, in fact, a real question. Because see, here's what happened this morning. I got up, I drank some coffee, I put on a clean shirt and my second favorite tie, and I thought to myself, Daniel, what fresh hell will Steve McGarrett inflict upon you today? I catalogued the possibilities – the hellfire, damnation, and destruction generally wrought by semi-automatic weaponry, incendiary devices, and beer of questionable provenance, and I girded my loins. My _loins_ , McGarrett, these very loins, right here, in these pants, were _girded_. But then I am texted by _terrorists_ who have kidnapped my partner, and with the aid of modern technology I establish that your cell phone _is right here in your house_. So here I am, with HPD hot on my tail and half the island on lock down, only to discover the terrorist is _snot_. Phlegm is holding you hostage. Steve fucking McGarrett has been felled _by a headache_."

"Dannooooo," Steve whined.

Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Did you drink water?"

Steve huffed.

"And take Tylenol?"

"No."

"Am I right in thinking you have been sneezing _directly into your sheets_?"

Steve summoned his not-guilty face.

"All right. All right, here's what I'm going to do. I am going to reserve the right to beat you senseless some other day because I am a good man, a kind man, a man brimming over with compassion, and I would like you healthy before I break your balls. Second, I am going downstairs, and I am going to get water, and if you lack the rudimentary pharmaceutical supplies necessary for living through a common cold, I am going to the store. When I return to this room you will be compliant when I insist you take the recommended dose of an over-the-counter painkiller, and then you will shower, because you smell like something died. I will strip the bed, I will put on clean sheets, I will expect you to sleep like a real person and not a psycho ocean robot, and eventually there will be soup. Are we clear?"

Steve nodded, pathetically grateful.

"You are a pain in my ass, and owe me so big, I can't even tell you," Danny muttered, rounding the bed. "And you had me worried, you big fucking freak." He kissed Steve's forehead. "Do this again and I will kill you, are we clear?"

Steve turned on his side and burrowed into his blankets. "Clear."

Danny tsked as his phone began to ring, headed back to the dresser, rolled his eyes as he read the display. "Governor," he said, answering, and flipped Steve the finger. "I can say, with some authority, that he's not in any _immediate_ danger, at least."


End file.
